


Tap

by sabinelagrande



Category: Taskmaster (UK TV) RPF
Genre: Altered States, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Developing Relationship, Double Penetration, F/M, Hand Feeding, Human/Vampire Relationship, Kidnapping, M/M, Mind Control, Multi, Polyamory, Rescue Missions, Temperature Play, Threesome - F/M/M, Untranslated Welsh, Vampire Alex Horne, Vampire Hunters, Vampire Rachel Horne, getting fed on by a vampire but make it sexy, just go with it, psychic vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:14:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27713941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: Sometimes you find out a significant figure in your life is a vampire. All you can really do is make of it what you will.
Relationships: Alex Horne/Rachel Horne, Greg Davies & Rhod Gilbert, Greg Davies/Alex Horne, Greg Davies/Alex Horne/Rachel Horne
Comments: 25
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Drunk Sabine thought it would be hilarious to leave Sober Sabine notes for an AU at 2 AM. Sober Sabine hates Drunk Sabine.

Later, Greg will want to say that he knew something was off all along. Maybe he'll make that claim; maybe he'll pretend he always had an inkling, saw all the signs, read the writing on the wall.

He didn't. It's a lie. It actually goes like this:

Greg is in his and Alex's dressing room, and they've just finished taping. Greg feels tired but fired up at the same time, the way that he gets after filming, and right now he's just adjusting his bag needlessly, trying to find an outlet, trying to find a reason not to go home.

Alex is not doing this; Alex is clearing up the odds and ends that got left on the vanity, his back turned to Greg. Greg is not sure why Alex doesn't understand that there are people employed to do that, but Alex can't be convinced. He does this every time, picking out the detritus to go in the wastebasket and putting to the side things other people have left in the room.

Greg kind of feels like he's going to burst.

"Hey," Greg says, and Alex does that thing he does where he pops up like a meerkat, which is fascinating.

"Hm?" Alex says, turning, as he drops either a makeup wipe or a napkin into the bin.

"Why don't we get out of here and I'll buy you a drink?" Greg says, and everything blows up all at once.

Greg knows instantly that he said it wrong. The spirit intended was "let's grab a cheeky pint, they won't miss us" but the execution was "I want to have an adult beverage with you with adult connotations." And it's not that Greg necessarily would object to the second one, but A, his being attracted to Alex is new and confusing, and B, he certainly wouldn't have been that fucking clumsy about it if he did it on purpose.

"Oh," Alex says, obviously having caught none of Greg's actual meaning.

Greg rubs his forehead. "Fuck, sorry," he says. "That's-"

"I should have already told you," Alex says, looking nervous.

For some reason it stabs Greg in the stomach. "Look, it's fine, I'm just going to go-"

"Please don't," Alex says. "Let me explain-"

"Don't make this harder," Greg snaps, and he turns to go. "We'll just pretend it didn't-"

_Stop,_ Alex says, and all at once Greg sags. He can't move his feet, and he suddenly feels like he's been sobbing, the hollowed out feeling after.

"Sorry," Alex says, walking around in front of him. "We were just talking at cross-purposes, and everything was about to go to shit."

"What?" Greg says weakly.

"Sit on the couch," Alex says, and Greg is so baffled and wrung out that he lets Alex turn him and guide him. "I'm going to make you some tea. Would you rather have biscuits or a piece of chocolate?"

"Biscuits," Greg mumbles, sitting down heavily.

"Right," Alex says. "Just stay there."

Alex fusses around, and Greg tries to pull himself together. He feels sluggish, drained. Alex takes his hand, something Greg is sure has never happened before offscreen, and puts a mug into it, taking a packet of biscuits out from under his arm and resting them on Greg's thigh.

There is no milk so the tea is molten hot, but Greg drinks it anyway. At first it's just mechanical actions, lifting the mug, fitting biscuits into his mouth, but he comes out of it, resurfaces, like the world is regaining its color.

Alex has pulled a chair from the makeup table and set it directly opposite the couch, and he's sitting there watching Greg. For some reason he reminds Greg of an owl, which is odd, because Alex really looks nothing like an owl. It's something around the eyes, perhaps.

"I should have let you in earlier and I regret that I didn't," Alex says, looking upset with himself. "That shouldn't have had to happen. I'm so sorry."

"What in the fuck did you just do to me?" Greg asks, though he doesn't feel quite recovered enough to be properly angry about it.

Alex fails to say anything for a good thirty seconds. He keeps gesturing with his hands and sighing in frustration. Greg is so fascinated by it that he just sips his tea and watches.

"I'm a vampire?" Alex says, looking like he's bracing himself.

"You are not a vampire," Greg says patiently.

"Oh, no, I'm fairly certain I am," Alex says.

"I have to hear why you are laboring under the assumption that you are a vampire," Greg says, "when I have actual footage of you in the sun, and looking into mirrors, and eating things, and playing with your children-"

"Why do you have footage of me playing with my children?" Alex asks, frowning.

"Rachel sent me that one of them burying you in clovers," Greg says.

"Ah," Alex says. "I regretted that. There were an awful lot of bugs."

"I would just text her and say, 'Alex just told me he's a vampire, tell him he has lost his mind,' but knowing the two of you, she'd double down and say you were right," Greg says.

"Rachel is also a vampire," Alex says.

"Christ's sake," Greg sighs. "Fine. Go ahead. Explain to me how you are a vampire, so that I can call you an idiot and get out of here, because now I really do want a drink."

"I don't recommend it," Alex says. "It's like taking shots on an empty stomach."

"Alex," Greg says sharply, and Alex sits up. He can't do whatever the hell Alex did, but he does still know how to use his teacher voice. "Talk."

"I am not the kind of vampire that drinks blood," Alex says. "I'm- psychic vampire is the term that the ki- that the common literature uses, but there are problems with that term." 

Greg very much wonders what word that wasn't, but he lets it go for the moment. "A little less Lord Ruthven, a little more Reginald Clarke?" He rolls his eyes at Alex's reaction. "I didn't go to fucking Cambridge, but why does everyone think I've never read a book?"

"I feed on," Alex continues, "emotions, sort of. Some of them are more, ah, nourishing than others? I don't like being around people who are afraid or deeply sad, but things like-"

"Humiliation," Greg says. "Anger. Triumph."

Alex freezes.

"I'm not willing to accede to the idea that you're a fictional creature, but if you're telling me the truth, you made yourself a feeding ground of unsuspecting people," Greg says, staring him down.

"I am perfectly aware that this started as a job for you," Alex says tightly, "but you didn't stay in it because you don't enjoy people debasing themselves for your benefit."

"Well, I enjoy it because I've got a sadistic streak a mile wide," Greg says snidely.

"Is that supposed to be better?" Alex challenges.

"At least it's honest," Greg says, and Alex winces. "There is sort of the vague understanding that I might be getting off on it, but that's as much as I could do. You're exploiting innocent people. Could you _kill_ one of them?"

"No!" Alex says, aghast. "I've never killed anyone in my life or my unlife. You don't call a hairdresser a monster for trimming a part of your body and selling it. This isn't different."

"Since when do hairdressers sell hair?" Greg says, confused.

"It's used in industrial applications, but that's not the point," Alex says. "What I did to you just now is the worst I can do. With so many people involved, I can just nip off the top, and the worst that happens is someone feels very tired after filming."

"Does Key know about this?" Greg says, trying to piece all of it together, feeling a little like he has red string on a corkboard.

"Oh," Alex says, sounding surprised at the question. "Um, yes. He's also a vampire, that's why we, um-" He makes a hand motion. "We see Taskmaster similarly, so our ideas for it mesh well."

"How many people are you going to tell me are vampires?" Greg says wearily.

"If this continues, probably more than you'd think but less than a lot," Alex says.

"If what continues?" Greg says, frowning.

"I'm really sorry about this," Alex says, "but if you decide this is something you can't handle knowing about me, or if it's something you feel you need to tell other people, I will have to wipe this conversation from your memory."

"Don't be an asshole," Greg says, rolling his eyes.

"Sorry?" Alex says in confusion.

"What you've done is fucked up," Greg says. "I don't love that you've made me an accessory to it, and I will be watching you like a fucking hawk from now on. But by now, you're my friend, and I don't abandon my friends just because something is fucked up about them."

"Oh," Alex says. "Um, thank you."

"How old are you?" Greg asks, because it feels like it's time for that kind of conversation.

Alex frowns. "Well, that's a little rude."

"What?" Greg says.

"The age I am is the age I was when I stopped being human," Alex says. "It's not very polite to point out I'll never be a different one."

"Huh," Greg says, though that logic makes no fucking sense. "And Rachel is your-"

"She's my wife," Alex says. "I mean, we have another word among, you know, ourselves, but it's a bit, ah-"

"A bit what?" Greg asks, when he doesn't continue.

"A bit extra?" Alex says, and Greg snorts. "Honestly, it just sounds childish not to just call her my wife when she is. We're not teenagers in eyeliner smoking cigarettes in a carpark and talking about how the blood is the life."

Greg has been a teenager in eyeliner smoking cigarettes in a carpark, but does not mention it; there was no blood involved, so it's not really germane. "You have children, with your wife, who you say, like you, is a vampire," he says.

"Oh, we adopted them," Alex says. "It felt like the time was right to start a family."

"Right," Greg says, feeling like kind of an idiot for that one, when it's perfectly reasonable. "So they're not vampires."

"I hope not," Alex says. "They're too young for it." He sighs a very parental sigh. "If we ever do it again, just two, I think."

Greg rubs his temple. "How did- how do you even get a start in vampirism?" he asks, even though he is questioning his life choices as he says it.

"Rachel, she-" Alex starts, looking stricken. "It's her story to tell, but she got turned, and she was facing eternity alone, and I couldn't let someone I loved so much do that." He shrugs. "So I had her turn me."

"What did it feel like?" Greg asks, because that idea is too big to hold, unbearably sweet and horrific at the same time.

"It was quite pleasant, actually," Alex says, like he's describing an anniversary dinner. "We made a day of it, and then she, um." He makes some hand motions, and Greg doesn't come close to understanding them. "It- there's a- the point is she made me the same as her."

Greg is completely out of tea, so he sets the cup aside, brushing biscuit crumbs off his leg. He hasn't figured out how to say what he needs to say, so he drums on his knee with his fingertips for a minute. Alex is looking at him in concern, but he's not saying anything, giving Greg the space.

"We really need to go back to the beginning," Greg says.

"Which beginning, and how?" Alex replies.

"Before you did whatever you did to me a while ago," Greg says.

"Right," Alex says, sighing.

"You thought I was hitting on you," Greg says.

Alex frowns. "Were you not hitting on me?"

Greg sighs in frustration. "I didn't set out to hit on you, that's just how it came out, I probably would have hit on you at some point." He points at Alex. "I just want it known that if I had been hitting on you intentionally, it would have been executed much more smoothly."

"I'll mark that down," Alex says.

"I'm trying to pick apart what happened next, because I feel like both of us should be very clear on it," Greg says. "I tried to leave because I thought you were going to say some understanding straight people shit, and fucking off was easier than dealing with that."

"That was not what I was saying," Alex says, his eyebrows raised. "I'm not even straight people."

Greg's heart beats a little faster, and he wonders if Alex can sense that, if it works that way. "So why, precisely, was your response to me hitting on you to give me a crash course in vampirism?"

Alex sighs, frowning like he's trying to put his words in a line. "You didn't have all the information," he says. "If you wanted to- to pursue something, you needed to know who you were asking, because who I am matters to this sort of thing." He looks a little sheepish, perhaps, or embarrassed. "On a more interpersonal level, you needed to know that Rachel and I are a set. You could, um, you could have both of us, but you can't have just one."

Alex is blushing furiously, which is not really surprising. "I don't know how to say this delicately," Greg says, "but you wouldn't be my first couple."

"Oh good," Alex says, perking up. "I mean, if you are still interested after knowing about, you know, the vampire thing."

"Do vampires fuck?" Greg asks, which is blunt but relevant.

"Yes," Alex says, and it's fascinating what he can get through and what he gets embarrassed by. "There's a lot of heightened emotion, so it's very good for feeding."

A sudden realization hits Greg. "Wait."

"Yes?" Alex says.

"You said 'heightened emotion,'" Greg says.

Alex looks like he's not quite sure where Greg is going with this. "Yes."

"Have you been feeding on me, too?" Greg demands.

Alex winces apologetically. "It's just that you get really worked up when you're pretending to get worked up sometimes, and you're giddy when people are doing things for you or when you're taunting me."

"So yes," Greg says flatly.

"Yes," Alex admits. "I, um, I am often very full after I see you."

"You're making me out to be some hugely demonstrative person," Greg says.

Alex is looking at him like he's waiting for the punchline. "I don't know why you think you're not."

"I guess you should talk to Rachel, then," Greg says, sidestepping the whole issue, because that's something he has to examine more closely, if he examines it at all.

"I don't speak for Rachel, but allow me to speak for Rachel this once," Alex says. "She's in."

"Has she previously voiced this opinion?" Greg asks, raising an eyebrow.

Alex pauses for a moment. "She said she'd hit it, and I have no reason to doubt her?"

Greg laughs, which lessens some of the tension. "Alright, we'll-" He shakes his head. "Fuck, I don't know, send me a calendar invite."

"I'll have my people call your people," Alex says, looking easier than he did before. He looks down at his watch. "But I really do need to be getting home."

"Yeah, that's not a bad idea," Greg says, even though he is just going to go to his empty flat, order delivery, and have a very big drink. But it's still weighing on him, something he can't let go. "But you have to do something for me, before this goes any further."

"Yeah?" Alex says, his face going grave again. 

"I want you to feed on me right now," Greg says seriously. "I want you to prove to me it doesn't hurt."

Alex looks taken aback. "O-okay," he says. He looks at Greg, and Greg sees his chest rise and fall.

Greg sits there, waiting, his whole body tense.

"I'm already done," Alex says after a moment. "I told you, it's just a lot of little sips. I can take much more, but I'm not a murderer."

"Well," Greg says. "That was anticlimactic."

Alex stands up, and what happens next is more interesting. He bends in and kisses Greg's cheek, the motion a little hesitant but so much smoother than Greg would have expected. Alex's lips are cool and dry, and it feels unusual but nice.

"I'll see you," Alex says.

"Yeah," Greg says. And then Alex leaves, and Greg is sitting there, wondering what in the whole fuck just happened.

He goes home and does have a drink, though he feels like he's shitfaced after just one. He's confused and horny and more than a little annoyed at himself for buying into any of this. He's had it proven to him that Alex can do _something_ , but people who visit faith healers say the same thing.

Greg wakes up in the morning to find that he had a long conversation by text with Ed that he absolutely doesn't remember. He doesn't seem to have said anything sensitive, just complained about being old and hard up while Ed sent laughing emojis, so that's alright. He doesn't feel hungover, despite how fucked up he was last night, and he makes call easily.

And he sits down in his throne, and they start the show, and-

It is exactly the same.

Nothing has changed at all. Filming goes off without a hitch. It occurs to Greg somewhere in the middle that of course it does. If all of this is real, then nothing has changed except Greg's perception, and maybe the fact that the flirting that Alex does with Greg in character and would never call flirting is a bit less empty than previously thought. It only feels weird that it doesn't feel weird at all, that Greg should know something so huge and mostly be worried if his timing is good.

Then they're back in the dressing room, and everyone is leaving, and Alex is tidying again. "We've got to stop meeting like this," Greg says.

Alex snorts in amusement. "It seems unlikely," he says. "We're in for two more series, minimum."

"It'll run past that," Greg says, unconcerned. He wonders what would happen if he just walked over and planted one on Alex, maybe nudged him up against the vanity to keep him from running off. The prospect is so wildly different than it was yesterday, when it seemed ridiculous. At this point, Greg doesn't really know what's stopping him.

But before Greg can do anything of the sort, Alex turns to him, looking nervous in a way that makes Greg's spine stiffen. "I thought, um," Alex says haltingly. "You see, it's-"

"It's okay," Greg says, even though he has no idea what he's saying it about.

Alex sighs, seeming a bit frustrated with himself, probably because he couldn't get out what he rehearsed. "Look, it's terribly rude to invite yourself to someone else's place, but I- Rachel and I thought, if you were- it's just that we're not filming tomorrow, and the nanny is staying over tonight, and that's not always an option-"

"I am happy for the both of you to come over," Greg says, putting him out of his misery. "Is this a fact finding thing, or are you hoping for more?"

"That depends on what you want," Alex says. "It doesn't have to go anywhere you don't want it to go."

"Let's agree to be prepared for both eventualities," Greg says diplomatically.

"Agreed," Alex says, a hair too fast. He looks like he's considering his words. "This will go better if you have a full stomach when we get there."

"The food does something, doesn't it?" Greg says, curious. "It has something to do with your whole thing."

"An army marches on its stomach," Alex says with a shrug, which makes a fair amount of sense but also doesn't answer the question.

There's an indelicate question Greg wants to ask, but fuck it, this is all pretty indelicate. "Should I buy condoms?" he asks. "I'm out, and I, ah, well." He scratches at his beard uncomfortably. "I am proportional to my height, so if you-"

"Not unless it makes you feel better," Alex says. "There's no-" He crosses his wrists, making a curving motion with both hands that either means something like 'cross-contamination' or 'water feature'.

"Right," Greg says. He sighs. "How many more ways can we make this awkward, do you reckon?"

"I'm sure we'll keep finding new ones," Alex says. "But once we, you know, get into it, I'm certain things will go fine. Rachel's so much better at that kind of thing than I am."

"Let's lay all our hopes on Rachel being able to communicate like a normal person," Greg says.

"That's not what's going to happen," Alex says easily. "She's just going to steamroll both of us."

"Oh," Greg says. "D'you know, I think I'd take that too."

Alex is out of things to tidy, and Greg is out of things to pack up, so he just goes over and does what he should have done in the first place. He puts his hands on Alex's hips, bending down and kissing him. Alex opens up for him, and it's nice, something accustomed about it even though they've never done it before. He pretends like he doesn't like Alex, but he knows Alex knows it's an act, something that evaporates whenever the camera is off. He must like Alex, that he's been doing this despite a couple of horribly awkward recent conversations and Alex's continued insistence that he is among the undead.

They part, and Alex looks much calmer than he did previously. "Seven-thirty?" Greg suggests.

"We can do that," Alex says.

"Do I need to invite you in?" Greg says, half joking and half definitely not joking.

"We just have to be welcome," Alex says, looking amused. "We don't actually have to be welcomed."

"Well, you are very welcome," Greg says. He walks over and picks up his stuff, needing to make this progress into a smooth exit. "See you soon."

Greg leaves, walking out into the hallway where he can panic in peace. There is a lot to panic about.

Then it's seven-thirty.

Actually, it's seven-twenty-five. Alex is constitutionally unable to be late to anything; he's the kind to show up at 3:57 for a 4:00 meeting and apologize for his tardiness. This is something Greg knows, so when Alex knocks, early, he's already prepared to let him in.

Greg opens the door to find Alex, looking nervously excited, and Rachel, holding a picnic hamper. One of these things seems out of place, but Rachel looks just like the last time Greg saw her, radiant and full of energy, but of a completely different kind than Alex.

"Greg," she says, and the fact that there is over a foot separating them does not stop her from putting her free arm around Greg's neck and pulling him down to hug him.

"Hi," Greg says, when she pulls away. Alex is also there, but if he and Greg start talking, it's going to get weird again. "Step into my lair."

"I've seen much more threatening lairs than this in my time," Rachel says, and she fobs the picnic basket off on Alex, who fobs it off on the kitchen table.

"Does a lair have to be threatening to be a lair?" Greg says.

"It has to have a little threat to be a lair," Rachel replies.

"If Alex isn't having me on, I'm given to understand that you're a little threat," Greg says, cutting right through it.

Rachel laughs. "What's that make Alex?"

"Medium sized at best," Greg says. "Don't try it," he says to Alex, who's about to speak. "If she's small and I'm large, you're medium. QED."

"That's not how you use QED," Alex says resignedly.

This is leading into Greg's living room, where Rachel sits down in the bend of the couch. She pats the space next to her, looking at Greg, and he snorts in amusement. He sits down next to her, not quite close enough to touch. Alex sits down at her other side; he takes her hand and kisses it, and Greg has no idea who he's trying to reassure.

"We should talk," Rachel says.

"Most definitely," Greg says. "I'm still fairly certain Alex is full of shit."

"About some stuff, yeah," Rachel says. "But he is a vampire. They're known for being sneaky and duplicitous."

"Alex couldn't sneak if you fucking paid him," Greg says, with absolute certainty.

"Nope," Rachel says.

"I guess I just really need to know what you want from me," Greg says, and it has too much of the uncertainty and fear and inadequacy he feels in it; he really needs to work on moderating his delivery.

Rachel puts a hand on his leg, and it feels so strange not to feel body heat in it. "We think you are brilliant and handsome," she says gently. "Both of us are very attracted to you. If you feel the same way and want to pursue that, it's going to be different for you than it would be if we were human."

"How so?" Greg asks.

She sighs. "Well, first you have to understand that we're immortal and you're not," she says, a little more bluntly than Greg would have liked. "We'll never age, and you will. Maybe that's going to bother you and maybe it won't, but you don't know yet." She walks her fingers up his thigh. "But for now, you need to understand that we can't have sex with you without feeding from you."

"Why is that?" Greg says. "Alex says he just sips."

"Imagine the difference between being offered a nice glass of water on a hot day and seeing a gushing firehose after you've been lost in the desert," Rachel says. "The emotions during sex are especially-"

"Delectable," Alex provides, when she doesn't find the word. "Like when you were a child and you'd gorge yourself on sweets just because they were so irresistible, without a care in the world about the after effects."

"Exactly," Rachel says. "We won't hurt you, but the experience is very intense, and you'll be exhausted afterwards. We'll have to stay the night, actually. Can't go leaving you alone like that."

"I generally prefer when people stay the night, anyway," Greg says, because that's the easy part. Whether he wants to be beset by vampires, still unsure; whether he wants them to stick around and cuddle, quite firm. "Is this actually going to feel good for me? Because, and I mean no disrespect, it seems a bit one-sided."

"Ah," Alex says.

"That part's harder to explain," Rachel says, frowning. "So- you know Alex was feeding from you, right?"

"Right," Greg says, giving Alex a look.

"You never felt anything because he didn't want you to feel anything," Rachel says. "For him it was a quick snack, no harm done, because he was just skimming off the top."

"So he tells me," Greg says.

"And it didn't feel that way at all when he used his voice on you," Rachel says, and this time she gives Alex a look.

"I never did get a good explanation for what that was," Greg muses.

"He can-" Rachel starts. "I mean, we all can, but it's- you say a word, and the human is drained too much to fight the command. You felt different, didn't you? Not just like you were tired."

"Yeah," Greg says. "Like I'd been-" He makes a vague motion towards his chest. "Cored."

"Yeah, exactly," Rachel says, tucking her hair behind her ear. "We can also make you feel good when we feed from you. It's all just emotions."

"If you want to see, you can just ask," Alex says, because sometimes he actually can read Greg like a book.

"Go on, then," Greg says.

"I need you to be more turned on," Alex says.

"That was one of the least sexy things anyone has ever said to me," Greg says.

Rachel slips into his lap, her knees on either side of his. "He's not wrong," she says. "There's not enough energy coming off of you. You just taste worried."

"I do wish you wouldn't say it like that," Alex says, and he slides over to take Rachel's place. She turns Greg's face towards him in a very unsubtle hint. It's so odd that he's so attracted to Alex, because Alex isn't attractive; it doesn't stop Greg from kissing him.

Rachel, as is appropriate, starts in on his neck, nibbling and kissing; she catches his earlobe and bites it gently, in a way that he always forgets he likes so much. This is all still a bit weird, but he's on much more solid footing with being somebody's unicorn.

Well. That term is used for young women, and almost always in a shitty, reductive way, but that doesn't mean he harbors any misconceptions about what this is.

Rachel rocks against him, and Greg breaks away from Alex's lips to groan. "Mmm," she says. "That's much better, isn't it?"

"Can't complain," Greg says.

Rachel puts a hand on the back of Alex's neck, her fingers running through the short hair there. "Show him," she tells him softly.

Greg doesn't see Alex do anything, even though they're inches apart. But instantly he feels heavy, full; something about it makes him think of some overripe tropical fruit, ready to be devoured. He wants to be consumed more than anything, and without even noticing he bends towards Alex, leaning into the places they touch.

"How was that?" Rachel says, running her hands through his hair.

"Jesus Christ," Greg says.

"That's only half," Alex says warningly. "Or less, she's stronger than me."

"You keep saying that like it's true," Rachel says. The feeling is starting to fade, Greg's head getting clearer. "Did you like it?" she asks him.

Greg doesn't know how to answer. It felt strange and intense; he also wants more so bad he could scream. He hesitates too long, and Rachel smiles at him, a kind smile that feels like it's masking disappointment. She makes to get up, but Greg puts his hands on her thighs, keeping her there.

"A little more?" Greg says, and Rachel beams.

"Maybe someplace a bit more comfortable," Alex suggests. "Or at least with more surface area."

"Bedroom?" Greg says, still finding words a bit difficult.

Rachel stands up, and this time Greg doesn't stop her. He's shocked when she grabs both his hands and pulls him up, then sweeps him into her arms like he weighs nothing. "Just show me the way."

Greg indicates the path to his bedroom, still a little baffled that Rachel can just hoist him up like that; it's probably a vampire thing, though it would be very impressive if it weren't. Alex opens the door, and Rachel carries Greg through, putting him back on his feet next to the bed.

"I can't wait until we figure you out," Rachel says, and she takes Greg's face into her hands, pulling him down to kiss him. Her skin feels cool, like touching marble, but her mouth is warmer when she brushes her tongue against his.

"What's there to figure out?" Greg asks, when they part.

"What turns you on the most," Rachel says. Alex isn't far, and she leans over and kisses him. They look good together, easy and genuine, and Greg just watches, not wanting to interrupt. She pulls back after a moment. "The more riled up we can get you, the more everyone will like it."

It is the weirdest logic, but Greg's come this far. "Worth a shot."

"Now," Rachel says, going straight for the fly of Greg's jeans. "You won't be needing these."

It startles a laugh out of Greg, kicks him out of the headspace he's fallen into. "You do travel fast, don't you," he says, but he pulls his t-shirt off.

"She's not the patient one," Alex says wryly.

"You're so patient, it's a wonder you're not somewhere that someone left you right now," Greg says.

"I have all the time in the world," Alex says, and Greg pulls him into a kiss. They're getting better at that, more accustomed; Greg is perfectly happy to work on it as often as necessary.

Rachel presses against him, her hands raising goosebumps on his bare skin, and he realizes he's the only one naked; it is not a pleasant feeling. "If you want to turn me on, you're not going to do it clothed," he tells both of them.

"I bet we could," Alex says, in a voice that sounds like he's about to scheme.

Greg raises an eyebrow at him, mock stern. "I'm being very nice by allowing you to do any of this, so show me some flesh, please, thank you."

Rachel laughs, pulling her shirt over her head; she's not wearing a bra, and she shakes her hair out, brushing it back. "Is that any better?"

"It's a definite start," Greg says, only sort of pretending to look her in the face. He bends down and kisses her again, and she sighs against his mouth when he runs his thumb over one of her nipples. He can't get over the body heat thing, but it feels pleasant, somehow, rather than offputting. It certainly doesn't stop him from touching her, or Alex, either, when he comes back in at Greg's side, his cock pressing into Greg's thigh.

They make it onto the bed, finally, and Greg finds himself with a Horne on either side. "Tell us what you want," Rachel says, trailing a finger over his chest.

"I thought that was fairly obvious," Greg says. He still feels clearheaded, like they're not doing anything to him in a vampiric sense, and he wonders when they might start, if he's really ready, even though he's craving it.

"There are so many choices," Rachel says, and Alex puts a hand on his thigh, only a little above his knee but very ready to track upwards. "This is all for you."

"It's at least a little self-interested," Greg says.

"If you go into sex not intending to enjoy it, you've done it wrong," Alex says.

"Can't fault that logic," Rachel says. She puts her hand over Greg's heart; it's beating faster and he doesn't know why, and now he knows they can tell. "What if we just take care of it? We'll just make sure you feel good, and you don't have to worry about anything."

"That might be faster," Greg admits.

"Then just lay back," Rachel says. "I'll tell you before we start feeding again, alright?"

Rachel is a wonderfully calming person, though just then she wraps her hand around his cock, which isn't calming at all. She makes a satisfied sound, stroking him slowly, only enough to tease. "You have got enough for the both of us, haven't you?"

"It's always better to come prepared," Greg says. Alex is moving, fitting himself between Greg's legs, and Greg watches this development with interest.

"D'you wanna know an interesting fact?" Rachel says, taking her hand away.

"I don't know why you think this is a good pickup line," Alex interjects. "And why is it always at my expense? I don't do it to you."

"I'm not talking to you," she chides.

Greg is about to ask what the fuck, but Alex takes his cock into his mouth, his tongue running along the head. He sighs instead, trying not to thrust up. It sends prickles up his spine; it feels like Alex has been sucking on an ice cube, his mouth wet and cool but in a really amazing way.

"Anyway, as I was saying," Rachel says, and Alex makes a noise of displeasure.

"Go on and tell me," Greg manages to say.

Rachel puts a hand on the back of Alex's head. "Vampires don't need oxygen," she says. She's pushing down, and Alex lets her do it, moving easily as she guides him. "They also don't choke." 

Greg wants to make a flippant comment, because it doesn't work as a pickup line or a come-on at all, as you have to do it after someone's already got a dick in their mouth, at which point the subject is moot. However, Alex has the entirety of Greg's cock down his throat, and Greg can't muster the brain cells. Then he starts sucking, moving his head, and Greg just moans.

"There we go," Rachel says, kissing him. "It's good, isn't it?" Greg makes a noise that isn't a word. "We can give you anything you want. We just want to make you feel good."

It strikes Greg that Rachel is vastly more dangerous than Alex is; they're the same thing, but only in the sense that stealing change from someone's pocket is the same as a confidence scam. Alex is creative, with flashes of cruelty that Greg didn't think he was making up, but right now, Rachel is genuinely making him feel like she cares, even though he knows she's about to drain his life force or whatever.

It's just a little hard to keep track of when Alex is sucking his brains out through his dick, especially when Rachel starts kissing him again. She grabs one of his hands and places it firmly on her breast; subtlety is not her strong suit, but he goes with it anyway. He pinches her nipple lightly, enough so that she makes a pleased noise against his lips, pushing into his hand.

Greg sort of forgets about anything that's going on other than the sex, but suddenly Alex pulls off of him. "Rachel," he says urgently, voice just a little hoarse. 

Rachel pushes herself up on her hands. "It's okay," she says, turning to Alex. Greg looks up at him, and Alex looks _different_ , in a way Greg would never be able to explain. Were his eyes always that dark? Greg remembers them as being paler, and it seems like he would know.

He's distracted from it when Rachel takes his hand. "You have to decide now," she tells him. "Alex can't hold back anymore. He has to either leave or feed. You have to pick."

"And you?" Greg asks.

She snorts, the mask slipping a bit. "I was trying to hold out a bit longer, but god, you're a feast," she says, sounding like a predator. "If we stay I'm going to devour you."

Greg tries to tell himself that that statement was incredibly terrifying, not incredibly hot; it doesn't work. If he tries he can remember what it felt like to have Alex feeding from him, and nothing about the experience made him want to not do it again. "Do it," he says, before he can change his mind.

Rachel grins, and Greg's back suddenly arches. He feels like he's going to burst open, like there's too much sensation and yet not enough, not at all. He feels like he is a thing to be eaten, and it feels so much better than he ever could have possibly imagined. He wants to beg to be taken, but he can't seem to speak.

Rachel climbs on top of him, holding his cock still so she can take it inside herself. It's warmer than Alex's mouth, though not by a lot, but it doesn't matter. Greg wants her so badly he could cease to exist.

Alex appears behind her, and he puts his arms around her, one hand at her throat and the other on her stomach. She turns her head, and they're kissing; maybe Greg should feel jealous, but he completely fails to. They look transported, superior creatures, and Greg doesn't want to do anything but let them use him.

Greg loses track.

The two of them are all over him. He can only remember it as bodies, flashes of sensation: Alex's cock, heavy on his tongue; his face buried between Rachel's thighs; hands and lips on his skin. He's never experienced something like it in his life, like there was a secret level of sex that he never even knew existed. He comes and it doesn't stop, he doesn't want it to stop, he never wants it to stop.

Then he's in his bed. Someone has put him in a jumper, which must be his given the size of it; they haven't given him pants, but the duvet is pulled up to his waist. This seems to be fine, because he's freezing. He's reclining on someone, half-sitting up; he glances at them, and it's Rachel.

"That's right, dear," she says, stroking his hair. "Here, have this."

Greg opens his mouth, and she puts a piece of a brownie in it. He chews and swallows, having no reason not to, and she gives him another piece.

"Take a sip," Alex tells him, offering him a straw; it's Lucozade, which Greg doesn't actually like, but he takes a swallow anyway. He doesn't seem to have it in him to do anything else. He feels dried out, blanched, just existing, like eight-thirty on a Tuesday night in winter while the sleet is coming down, too late and too early to know if work will close on Wednesday.

The two of them keep feeding him; Rachel is saying encouraging things to him, but Alex is just touching him, in a way that Greg wouldn't have expected from him. It progresses into pieces of thick bread with cheese on them, slices of an apple, but eventually Greg remembers how to think again.

"Huh," he says.

"How do you feel?" Alex asks, looking serious and concerned.

"Well, it certainly did a number on me," Greg says. "I think I'm okay right at the minute."

"Good," Rachel says, kissing the top of his head. "A good night's sleep and you'll feel fine."

"You're staying, aren't you?" he asks, feeling suddenly vulnerable.

"Yes," Alex says firmly.

"Now here, eat it all," Rachel says, putting peanut butter on a cracker and handing it to him. "You need your protein."

"You really sounded like a mum when you said that," Greg says, through a mouth full of cracker.

Rachel laughs. "We just want you to be a big healthy boy." She smooths his hair back, her hands soothing on his skin. "We can worry about the hard part later."

When Greg wakes up the next morning, Rachel and Alex are still there, though they've packed away the impromptu picnic they threw in Greg's bed. They talk a little, and nothing gets resolved.

Greg is reeling from it, for so many different reasons. It wasn't even how he usually is in bed; people want him to be in charge, to puff himself up, maybe even threaten them a bit. Greg has no problem with that role, because it's incredibly easy. It was much harder to let go, let someone else drive; he thinks he liked it, but with everything involved, it's hard to be sure it wasn't a mistake.

Also there is the part where he is now definitely a hundred percent sure that Alex and Rachel have magical powers that are not supposed to exist. He's also pretty sure he wasn't supposed to like it as much as he did, even if that was the point.

He tells the two of them he needs time to think about it, and Rachel just smiles at him and promises him all the time in the world. Alex just looks kind of awkward and needy, like he does sometimes, but he doesn't press Greg at all.

And then Greg is alone in his flat again.

He does actually have things to do, the kind of stuff that falls to the wayside during filming, despite the fact they'll be done in just a few days. He also has a date for a drink, in an entirely platonic way. There is no way he can or will explain any of this to said date, but getting out of his head a little bit will do him good.

Rhod is late, which is unsurprising. He's writing at the moment, stuff for a new show, and Greg has known few people who go stir-crazy faster than Rhod Gilbert. He didn't beg Greg to come out for a pint with him in so many words, but it was transparently begging nonetheless.

Greg gets both of them a drink and sits down at a table, putting Rhod's beer down across from him and taking a sip of his own. He doesn't have to wait particularly long; Rhod plops down heavily in the opposite chair. "Ta," he says, taking a long pull from his pint, sighing as he puts it back down.

"Somebody's flustered," Greg says.

"I don't fluster," Rhod says. "I-"

Rhod doesn't continue, and Greg looks at him curiously. "Yeah?" Greg prompts.

Rhod frowns, then he leans forward across the table, staring Greg down, searching him minutely. It's honestly making Greg pretty uncomfortable, but it's not the weirdest thing Rhod's done by miles.

Rhod's eyes narrow, and he looks furious. "You fucking idiot," he says. "You went and fucked him, didn't you, you fucking twat."

Greg has no idea what is going on, so he just sits perfectly still.

Rhod's face twitches, in a way that makes him look like a tiger about to growl. "And the mate, too," he says. "That's fucking low, even for you."

"What," Greg says plainly.

"Do you even realize what the fuck you've done?" Rhod says.

"Are you even capable of forming a sentence without the word fuck in it anymore?" Greg says.

"Fuck off with that," Rhod says. He glances around, then nods at Greg's beer. "Pound it and let's go. We can't talk here."

"You're the one who wanted to go out," Greg protests.

"Well, that was before you fucked two fucking vampires," Rhod hisses.

Greg stares at him for a moment.

Then he chugs his pint.


	2. Chapter 2

They're in Rhod's flat, the one he has in London, because Greg just figured that going back to the location where he, very recently, did, in fact, fuck two vampires was a bad idea. Sian is at home, but she's working on something, giving them a distracted greeting before going back to it. Rhod seems to have no particular interest in stopping her from hearing the conversation they're about to have, which Greg thinks might be effusively loud.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Rhod says, before Greg has even gotten sat down.

"Oh no," Greg says. "Oh no no no no no. This isn't going to be you berating me. You're the one sticking your nose in my business, so you're going to explain to me how you know about any of it."

Rhod looks like he'd really like to find fault in that logic, but fails to. "Alex is a vampire," he says. "His mate, too."

"She has a name, but yes, they are apparently vampires," Greg says.

"Why are you sitting there like there's not a problem with that?" Rhod asks, which is a fair question.

"Because I trust them," Greg says. "They're not movie monsters, they're regular people with a weird food supply."

Rhod pinches the bridge of his nose. "You're gonna be a thrall in two days' time and you won't even care."

"But again," Greg says, even though that was a frightening statement that he doesn't understand. "How do you know that Alex is a vampire? Is this what they teach you in Wales instead of reading?"

"There's no vampires in Wales," Rhod says, puffing up a bit, the way he does whenever he's bragging about Wales, even if he's about to slag it off in the next sentence. "We drove them out."

"Like St. Patrick and the snakes?" Greg says.

"It was nothing like the pissing snakes," Rhod says coldly, in a way that suggests it is not the first time that question has been asked.

"Hang on," Greg says. " _I'm_ from Wales. Why don't I know this?"

"We haven't told the entirety of Wales," Rhod says, in that voice he has when he is shocked at how much of an idiot Greg is. "Nobody got on Radio Cymru and went-" he straightens, doing what Greg assumes is a newsreader voice. 'Bore da, heliwr dw i, mae fampirod heddiw, byddwch yn ofalus, os gweli di'n dda.'"

"You're getting better at that," Greg says.

"Welsh is unnecessarily fucking difficult," Rhod says. "I don't even know if that was right. But heliwr, I'm sure of."

"You know that I am doing well to speak English," Greg says, with the patience of a saint.

"Hunter," Rhod says, like he's daring Greg to contradict him. "Of vampires, if you wanna get specific."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Greg says. "Is anyone not tied up in this?"

"You certainly are," Rhod says, eying him.

"Yeah, fair," Greg says sheepishly. "I guess I've cashed in that particular chip."

"You're not gonna believe this," Rhod says.

"Oh, at this point, I believe anything anyone says to me," Greg says.

"You're not gonna believe this because you think I'm full of shit every time I say something positive about myself," Rhod says.

"That makes more sense," Greg allows.

"There are some of us who can see the-" Rhod waves his hand, like he's imitating a scanner. "The vampires' power. We can see it on a vampire, and we can see the residue on their victims, at least for a while." Greg feels weirdly self-conscious; he must be lit up with it. "It runs in families. I got it from my mam. It also makes us immune to being sucked on."

"So you're safe from them," Greg says.

Rhod gives him a withering look. "They don't make sure you're not a vampire when you buy a knife. They'd rather kill us, because we're dangerous and fat free."

"If this is true," Greg says, "then there's still a big step between having a talent and calling yourself a vampire hunter."

"It's, you know," Rhod says, and he looks faintly embarrassed. "I started training for it when it started to be obvious that I was like my mother."

"I don't notice you doing a lot of vampire hunting," Greg says. "I do notice a lot of you fucking around doing random shit and going random places to make television shows about it."

"The training takes a long time, alright?" Rhod says. "And there's something I haven't done yet."

"What is that?" Greg asks, when Rhod doesn't continue.

"I-" Rhod stops, scratching his ear. He sighs, annoyed. "I haven't killed a vampire, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Why am I so unsurprised that was your answer," Greg says, too exhausted by the whole thing to even mock him properly.

"Why do you think I tried to stake Alex and make it look like an accident?" Rhod says. "Would have saved me a lot of headache."

" _What_?!" Greg says.

"The javelin," Rhod says. "I rubbed it down with, ah-" He rubs his fingertips together. "Dagr haearn?" Greg looks at him blankly. "Look, it's this stuff with metal filings and graveyard dirt and some other shit, I don't know how to make it. You mix it with holy water till it's a paste, and then you put it on whatever-"

"You were really going to murder Alex," Greg says, feeling lightheaded.

"Well I didn't fucking pull it off, now did I?" Rhod says mockingly. "He's a vampire. He's not a person. He deserves anything he gets. So does the other one."

"So you were willing to orphan his children and destroy your own life, for absolutely nothing," Greg says, in a daze.

"I'd have been fine," Rhod says, shrugging. "Yr helwyr would have taken care of me. They knew I was getting up close to one of those things."

"Please tell me you didn't take the gig knowing Alex was a vampire," Greg says, feeling horrifically guilty; he'd been the one who suggested Rhod coming on.

"How was I supposed to know when I hadn't met him?" Rhod says. "It was a happy accident."

"What have they- or any vampires at all, for that matter- ever done to you?" Greg demands. "They're not committing a horrific crime, they're not murdering people-"

Rhod barks a laugh. "Is that what they convinced you of? That it was all perfectly sweet and nice? Sometimes they say it's symbiotic. That's always good for a laugh."

"There is no reason for me not to trust them," Greg says, though now the doubt is creeping into his mind, the way they could have talked him into anything.

"Pretty soon you're not going to be able to do anything but trust them," Rhod says. "All you're gonna care about is letting them bend you to their will."

"As much as admitting a weakness to you is always a mistake," Greg says, "I genuinely have not been informed of whatever you're talking about."

"Of course not," Rhod says, rolling his eyes. "It's addictive, more than any drug ever created. If you let them into your head, you'll never get them out again. You won't be anything but a thrall. You'll give up your whole life to serve them, then when you're used up, they'll kill you."

"You're being completely fucking ridiculous," Greg says, despite the fact he's been at Alex's right hand for years and never left, despite the fact he can feel Rachel's soft, cool skin if he gives it the barest thought.

"The only one being ridiculous is you," Rhod says. "You're anifail, you mean _nothing_ to them-"

"Will you please stop speaking Welsh!" Greg shouts. It's the least of his worries, but it is easily identifiable and really irritating him.

"I learned everything in Welsh before I spoke Welsh, I don't know how to say half this shit in English," Rhod says snippily.

"I need to think," Greg says, rubbing his temple.

"You need to fucking run," Rhod says.

"I see Alex at seven AM tomorrow," Greg protests. "We have a show to finish. Unlike some people, I'm not going to ruin my career because I'm obsessed with a fake threat that I let other people fill my head with." He points at Rhod. "But I don't think you really care either."

"What the fuck are you on about?" Rhod says, pulling back.

"You had Alex at your mercy how many times?" Greg says. "You've had him tied up, you missed him with the javelin on purpose, you could have fucking pulled him into a broom cupboard at the studio and taken him out with no witnesses."

Rhod looks at him. "You have the weirdest mind."

"One of us has to think like a vampire hunter, apparently," Greg says. "I don't think you want to do it. I don't think you ever will."

"Are you trying to get me to go stake your vampire boyfriend?" Rhod says. "Because now I'm confused."

"You can give me that shit as much as you like, but you choked," Greg says. "You had a vampire's life in your hands and you didn't take it. There's a reason why."

Rhod looks annoyed. "And I don't have to tell you just because you yell at me about it."

"Says everyone who's ever had a conversation with you," Greg says, standing up and walking towards the door.

"Being angry because I'm right won't help you," Rhod says, following after him, but he opens the door.

"In the extremely unlikely event that I ever think you're right, guess we'll find out," Greg says, stepping out of Rhod's flat.

Before Rhod can shut the door, Greg turns back and catches it, looking at Rhod suspiciously.

"Is it a withdrawal thing, feeling irritated and anxious?" he asks, willing to risk giving Rhod the satisfaction just to make sure.

"No," Rhod says. "That's from how much it pisses you off when you can't prove me wrong."

"That I believe," Greg says, and he lets the door go.

"Nos da!" Rhod shouts through it, because it is like him to think of a cutting rejoinder way too late, then try to get it in anyway.

Greg feels, more than anything, like his brain has been cut up into fine pieces and pushed through a sieve. He has no idea what just happened, on a number of levels. There is potentially somewhere he could learn about this, some dusty tome or hidden corner of the internet, but he has taken in way too much information in the last forty-eight hours to even bear the thought of it.

He goes home, and he literally just goes to bed. There's nothing left in the tank. At least he can get some rest.

He's freezing when he wakes up, but he gets it together and gets to the studio on time. Alex is looking at him expectantly, but it is Alex's job to look at him expectantly. And Greg does what he always does, especially when it's Taskmaster: he just acts around the panic. He lets the silliness of the whole show get him through, focuses on getting reactions out of the contestants, makes himself scarce during lunch, just works until it's over.

He doesn't stick around in the dressing room, just picks up the stuff he's already put together, doesn't even sit down.

"We need to talk," Greg says to Alex, who's looking at him in confusion. "On the phone."

"Oh," Alex says, frowning. "Okay, well, why don't you call me, then? I can have Rachel join-"

"We'll see," Greg says; he feels like he can't trust either of them, but he trusts Rachel less right now. That's not fair to her, but it's mostly because he thinks she's the better vampire.

"Alright," Alex says carefully. "I'll, um, expect you tonight, shall I?"

"Yes," Greg says. Tomorrow is the last day of filming, and there's a wrap party immediately following. This needs to be sorted by that point, because there needs to be no indication that he and Alex are cross with one another. He'll take them looking like they're fucking; that is, essentially, neither a surprise nor a problem.

Greg walks the hell out of there, waits until after what he assumes is the time children go to sleep, and dials Alex's number.

"Alright, Greg?" Alex says, sounding concerned.

"Just what the fuck are you playing at?" Greg says, unable to think of anything more eloquent.

"Uh," Alex says. "Sorry?"

"I'm not your toy, and I'm not your servant," Greg says, anger and hurt welling up in him. "How _dare_ you let me get into that without telling me everything I was in for."

"Wha-" Alex stammers. "Let me get Rachel, she can-"

"Don't you fucking dare," Greg says dangerously. "You're going to answer to me, and you're going to do it for yourself."

"Greg, please, let's just calm down," Alex says, sounding distraught. "Please tell me what's wrong."

Greg snorts angrily. "Were you going to tell me that feeding is addictive?"

The line goes quiet. "I need to know who you've been speaking with," Alex says, in a voice that is deadly calm, even for him.

"Answer the question," Greg says.

"No," Alex says. He's never come close to speaking to Greg like this before, except maybe in the dressing room when he told him to stop. "You need to answer my question. We can have a discussion about what the facts are after you tell me who told you that." Greg doesn't answer, torn between wanting to tell him to piss off and wanting to be honest. "It was Rhod, wasn't it."

"Yeah," Greg mutters. "I saw him, and he saw you on me."

"Fuck," Alex spits, a word that is always shocking when it comes from him. "I'm putting Rachel on. I don't know what kind of bullshit you heard from half a hunter, but we're clearing it up right now."

"Fine," Greg says, because this wasn't the reaction he expected. He wasn't quite sure what reaction he was going to get, but Alex handling it like a PR disaster wasn't among the options.

"Hey," Rachel says, a few moments later, and he can hear that the speaker is turned on. She sounds worried, warm where Alex is cold. "Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" Greg says, because the question is baffling. "I mean, not really, but that doesn't seem like the point."

"What else would be the point?" Rachel says.

Greg doesn't know what to do with that. "You didn't even tell me there were vampire hunters," he says.

Somehow he can hear their confusion. "I thought everyone knew there were vampire hunters," Alex says.

"Jesus Christ," Greg says. "Well, I talked to one of them, and he gave me some completely different information to what the two of you did."

"Please tell me exactly what he said," Rachel says. Greg has no reason to believe she has any power over him right now, the whole reason for being on the phone, but the way she says it tugs on his heart.

"He said that letting you do that to me was addictive," Greg says, and it makes him feel uncomfortably open. There is the faintest gasp at the other end, stifled quickly. "He said you were, well, basically remorseless killers who only see humans as food. He said some other stuff, but it was in Welsh, so I wasn't really listening."

"Is that what you think?" Alex asks seriously.

"What I think is completely irrelevant," Greg says. "I've known about this for two days. I just want to know what the truth is."

"Greg," Rachel says gently. "I'm going to be perfectly honest with you, okay? The truth is, if a vampire wants to bring someone under their thrall- to, I guess, get them addicted- they can. That's a power that all vampires have and some very evil ones use. Normal humans can do that to each other too. All of it's abuse, it's just that one of them you can end with holy water."

"Then why do I still want it so badly?" Greg asks, frustrated. "Why can I still feel it when I think about it?"

"Do you remember, while we were filming series five," Alex says carefully. "Mark brought a jug of what he was claiming was mead that a friend of his had made."

"Yep," Greg says.

"Think about what it was like to drink it," Alex says.

It was years ago, and Greg can bring the taste into his mouth immediately; it tasted like petrol and burnt sugar. "Eugh," he says involuntarily. "Is he a vampire? Only someone who doesn't know what food tastes like could like that."

"No," Alex says. "I don't know how he hasn't figured out about me and Key, except just being himself. But the point is that you remember it so clearly because it made a strong impression on you. You want more of it because you liked it. That's all. There's nothing sinister about it."

"We'll tell you anything you want to know," Rachel says. "We're not trying to trick you."

"Is it alright if I ask Alex a question alone?" Greg says, and it's annoying him that he still feels leery of Rachel, but he thinks there's something Alex can tell him that she can't, a suspicion he's been having.

"You stay here and talk to Greg," Rachel tells Alex. "See you tomorrow," she says to the phone, and Greg hears Alex switch over from speaker.

"What do you need to know?" Alex says.

"What would happen if you hung up right now?" Greg asks.

"I don't know," Alex says. "I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?" Greg says.

"I can't disobey her," Alex says plainly. "I'm not physically capable."

"What?" Greg says, somehow still alarmed though he thought that was the answer.

"She turned me," Alex says. "She has power over me. There's a way to stop it, but-"

"But what?" Greg prompts, when he trails off.

"Why would I want to?" Alex says plaintively. "I, very literally, love her more than life itself. I trust her implicitly. She'd never harm me no matter what."

"What about the person who turned her?" Greg asks.

"She-" Alex pauses. "Severed from Rachel. Which is good, because she disappeared and we never saw her again. I never saw her at all." He sighs. "I know what you're going to ask, so I'll just tell you. No, I didn't know this was going to happen before Rachel turned me. We didn't even know there was more than one way to feed yet, so she didn't seduce me into it. I will never regret joining her, and if the cost is that she wins every argument, then it's less than nothing."

"So she-" Greg says. "I mean, no offense, but I've been taking her for the actual danger, between the two of you."

Greg can picture how he's rolling his eyes. "Every vampire is dangerous, if you want to look it like that," Alex says. "I'm too cold, and sometimes I think being cruel is funny. Rachel is too warm, and she can wrap anyone around her finger. That's how it was before we were vampires, too." There's silence for a moment. "If that's something you can't handle, this stops. It can be all professional after this. We'll work out the show until the end of the contract, and then we'll go our separate ways."

Greg is very glad they're not in physical proximity, because his heart seizes. "Look, we're not going to resolve anything tonight," he says. "Just give me some time to think, and we'll talk at the wrap party."

"Do what you need to do," Alex says, sounding weary, and they hang up.

Greg puts his head in his hands and says "Fuck" about seventeen times.

The fact they successfully accomplish the taping is nothing short of a miracle. Greg does shout at Alex a couple of times, just to muster the strength to get through, but people like it when he shouts at Alex. The time is moving so wretchedly quickly, and Greg can't seem to make it slow down. Filming usually drags on and on, but then they're at the end of the finale, the winner hoists the golden head, and they're closing up shop.

The party is, of all places, at the Taskmaster House. It's a weird layout for a party and always smells a big odd, but they do own it now; put a marquee outside and it's really not that bad. The whole team doesn't amount to a huge number of people, and they're talking easily, most of them having been on the show for a while now.

Rachel is standing next to Alex, an arm through his, and Greg desperately wants to go over and is dreading doing the very same thing. The decision is abruptly taken out of his hands when Andy puts a hand on his back and guides him towards the two of them. There are photos to be taken, apparently, and Greg bears them, the way he does all photos, just trying not to look like too much of a twat.

"Let's go talk," Greg tells Rachel, in a soft voice. He's been panicking about what to do, what to say, whether he's going to lose his friends and his job and everything he's been thrown into, but in the end, he really only has to be near them to know what he wants.

"Want me to get Alex?" she asks.

"No," he says. "I just want to talk to you for a minute."

"I know a place," she says. "Meet me in the hallway."

Neither of them have a chance to tell Alex, who's been swept into a conversation with the kind of people you talk to when you're the creator and not the talent. Greg leaves anyway, stopping for a moment before walking into the house. There are people around, mostly in the lounge, but Rachel is further down the hall. She ducks into one of the rooms, and Greg follows. He literally has to duck, flipping on the light in the blinding whiteness of the lab.

"This room creeps me out," Greg tells her.

"That's why I figure nobody's coming in," Rachel says. The table is still sitting in the middle of the room, and she hops up on it. "That's better. Now I can look you in the throat instead of in the nipples."

Greg snorts. "Look, I- I don't even know what I'm apologizing for, I just know I'm sorry," he says.

"You don't need to be sorry," she says. "You've had it rough the past few days. I wish we'd told you more in advance."

"It worried me how much I liked it," he says honestly. "That doesn't mean I should have suspected the worst of you."

"You wouldn't be the first," she says lightly, even though it's not a light statement at all.

"Do you know what I genuinely thought?" he says, and he steps forward, standing in front of her, close enough to touch. "I thought you were so charming that it had to be supernatural. I thought you were going to suck me in, and I'd never be able to get back out."

She puts her hands on his hips, guiding him closer, her skirt riding up her thighs as she lets them part. "That's kind of cruel and kind of sweet at the same time," she tells him. "But if you need me to forgive you for it, you're forgiven."

"I do appreciate that," Greg says.

"Do you want to try it with us?" Rachel asks tentatively. "At least for a little while?"

"You know, I really do," Greg says, and he bends down and kisses her. She puts a hand on the back of his neck, and the sensation makes him shiver a bit. He slides his fingers under the hem of her skirt; he doesn't know how far he actually wants to go in the middle of the lab, but he could stand to go a little bit farther.

When she pulls away, he manages not to chase after her, but only just. "We should get Alex," she says.

"We should get Alex and get out of here," Greg says.

"That's the best idea I've heard all day," Rachel says, and she hops off the table and pulls Greg into the hallway.

Greg wakes up in the morning feeling wrung out and sore and so content he doesn't know what to do with himself. Rachel is curled up next to him, wearing a sweatshirt of his and reading a book she nicked from his shelf. She looks sweet, innocent; it does not match the fact that last night, she held him down so Alex could push into him, bending in and sucking Greg's cock while he did it. Nor does it match the part where she rode his face, or the part where she rode his cock, or the fact that the whole time she was feeding from him, taking in something vital and essential of him and trading it out for pure lust.

It does match how she and Alex fed him and held him afterwards, but that part was just nice, from what he remembers.

Unfortunately, Alex is not in the bed, which seems like a serious oversight. "Morning," he says, his voice coming out a little creaky and hoarse.

Rachel turns, smiling at him. "Morning, love," she says, kissing his cheek.

"Where's your good husband?" Greg asks.

She laughs. "You didn't have anything for breakfast."

"He could have gotten delivery from half a dozen places," Greg says.

"I told him that," Rachel says. "I think he just likes to keep busy." She slips out of bed, and he looks her up and down; his shirt falls to mid-thigh on her, and it's not a bad look. "Tea or coffee?"

"Tea is fine, but you don't have to," Greg says.

She leans over and pecks him on the forehead. "I'm gonna. You just relax."

Greg knows there are serious problems with this arrangement, but the breakfast in bed thing is pretty great. He frowns when his phone starts buzzing suddenly, interrupting his ruminations on pancakes. He makes a noise of disgust when he sees who it is, and he considers throwing his phone at the wall. What stops him is the fact that it's a call, not a text, an increasing rarity.

"I have no idea what the fuck you want-" Greg starts.

"Shut up," Rhod snaps. "Listen to me. If you care about Rachel, you'll get eyes on her right now."

"What?" Greg says, though he's already throwing back the duvet. "Why?"

"Because they've got Alex and they'll come for her next," Rhod says. "If we handle this extremely carefully, we might not all die."

"Who's they?" Greg says; Rachel is standing in the kitchen, looking at him in confusion, which is understandable when he's just run in stark naked talking on a cell phone. "Who's we?"

"They are yr helwyr, we is you, me, and whoever you've got with you, and I'll be at your place in five minutes," Rhod says, and the line goes dead.

"Greg?" Rachel asks.

"I think we should put some clothes on," Greg says, because he can't be the one to say it, he can't be the reason her heart shatters. "There's going to be a vampire hunter here in five minutes, and I'd rather we handle him fully dressed."


	3. Chapter 3

Rachel takes them straight back to her and Alex's house, outside of London; it hasn't adequately been explained to Greg why, but Rachel and Rhod agreed on it immediately. When they get there, the house is already in a ruckus. The children have backpacks and coats on, and the nanny is running around looking baffled and putting things in bags.

Rachel walks in and immediately goes to the sideboard in the dining room. She smacks the top of it with her fist, catching a box as it falls out of the underside and dumping the contents into her hand. Greg watches as she goes back to join the rest of her family; no one is paying attention to him, and that's perfectly fine.

"Take this money," Rachel says to the nanny, handing over a thick stack of notes and a piece of paper. "Take the children to this address using this route. Don't stop for anything, and don't leave them alone."

She looks at the paper and back up to Rachel, alarm on her face. "This is eleven hours away, especially if you want me to go all the way up to-"

"Then you better leave now," Rachel says. "There's double that for you when you come back." She puts a hand over the younger woman's. "It'll be fine. You'll be fine. But only if you leave right now."

The kids are milling around, and Rachel steps into the middle of them. The oldest one is almost as tall as she is, and it makes Rachel seem small, fragile, in a way that matches nothing about her.

"Mummy told you what to do, okay," Rachel says, with a gentleness that breaks Greg's heart. "Just do exactly what I taught you, and I'll come join you very soon."

"Are you sure?" the middle one asks. He doesn't look like Alex, really, but the look on his face is identical.

"I've never been surer of anything in my life," Rachel says, cupping a hand around his cheek, and Greg knows that it's a lie. None of them can be sure of anything right now, and he can't fathom the strength it must take to look your child in the face and tell them everything is fine, when you know their father might be dead.

Greg goes outside, because it's all a little much. Rhod is still standing in the garden, looking cross. He's holding a battered suitcase; it doesn't look like it's ancient, more like it's from the seventies. He didn't come into the house with Greg and Rachel, and he didn't explain why. He just watches Rachel herding the children towards the door, and continues to not explain himself.

Greg has, at this point, no earthly idea why Rhod called or why Rhod is here. He cannot promise that there is a reason. Trying to understand Rhod is like trying to comprehend why bad things happen to good people; maybe there are reasons, maybe there is a greater pattern, but functionally, it is completely random. It's possible Rhod will suddenly tell him everything, and it's equally possible that Greg will go to his grave not knowing.

"Do they feed on the kids?" Greg asks; the idea turns his stomach, but he can't not know.

"Huh?" Rhod says, like he wasn't expecting Greg to talk. "Oh, no. They've snacked on the nanny, but vampires don't eat children."

"Why not?" Greg says, which is a weird sounding question, but one that feels okay when he knows it's a negative.

"Little balls of furious emotion, innit?" Rhod says. "Incredibly sharp flavor and no meat to it. Like if you had to make Christmas dinner, but all you got was three scotch bonnets and a handful of sour candy."

"Interesting," Greg says, and they watch as the children leave, the house going quiet again. Rachel walks out of sight for a minute, but Greg doesn't go after her; he doesn't know what to say or how to help.

Finally, Rachel comes to the door again. "It should be safe for you," she says to Rhod. She nods to the suitcase. "But only if you leave that shit out there. It'll explode."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Rhod says. He sets the suitcase on a convenient bench and comes inside; he braces himself when he passes through the threshold, but nothing happens.

"Where is Sian?" Greg asks, following Rachel into the dining room.

"I would rather neither of you know," Rhod says. "I don't know either. That's the safest way."

Greg doesn't like it and doesn't really know how Rhod can stand it, but it does make sense. "Are they going to come after her?"

"Not right now," Rhod says. "They wouldn't come after her except to get to me, not like they'll come after you."

"Why?" Greg asks.

"Sian is anifail," Rhod says. "She has nothing to do with anything. At this point, you're baned. There's a difference."

"Wait," Greg says. "I do know what that means. That's a cup of tea."

"It's shortened," Rhod says, looking frustrated. "That's baned o te, and this is baned o- none of this is the pissing point."

"The point is we have to get my mate back," Rachel says sharply.

Greg rubs his temple. "So we just go to Wales and look for vampire hunters?" he asks. "Because that's my only contribution. I'm just a cup of tea, apparently."

"They can't take him into Wales," Rhod says, like Greg's an idiot. "There's no vampires in Wales."

"You people have some strange ideas about jurisdiction," Greg says.

"They have safehouses scattered through England," Rhod says.

"And Ireland?" Greg asks, because it seems geographically likely.

"There's no vampire hunters in Ireland," Rachel says, eying Rhod.

Greg wants to point out that Rachel's from Northern Ireland, but he knows the correct time to ask whether Ireland is unified or divided into its current political structure when it comes to the domains of supernatural forces is never. "Okay, so they're in England," he says. "How does that help? It's even bigger than Wales."

"I know exactly where they are," Rhod says begrudgingly. "They're expecting me to meet them there."

"Well, that colors things slightly," Greg says, after a long pause.

"I let her bring us here because we're closer anyway," Rhod says. "But they want me present at sundown. That's how long we have."

"What are we going to find when we get there?" Rachel says, with a hardness to her face that Greg doesn't like. He's not afraid of it; it just isn't her, makes him want to smooth it out with his fingers.

"He won't be dead," Rhod says. "They want him to be alive when I get there. He'll be almost dead. They're going to drain him til he's too weak to fight back."

Rachel looks like she's about to throw up. "We have to get him out," Greg says. "We have to get him somewhere safe."

"Nowhere's safe," Rhod says. "If you want to get him out, get him out and then make a plan."

"Tell me everything you know," Rachel says, staring him down.

Rhod looks like he doesn't want to cooperate, even though cooperating was tacitly his idea in the first place; if he hadn't tipped them off, Rachel and Greg would be in Greg's apartment, wondering why on earth Alex was taking so long. "Somebody give me some paper," he says. "I need to make a floor plan."

"Hold on," Rachel says, and she quickly leaves.

"What the fuck are you playing at?" Greg hisses, because he doesn't know what else to say.

"Don't you start," Rhod says wearily.

"I think this is a perfectly good time to start," Greg says. "I would have taken yesterday, but-"

"They're holding him for me, alright?" Rhod snaps, and Greg's eyes go wide. "They've got him and they're torturing him so I can go over there and kill him. They're sick of my shit, so they're giving him to me so I can prove my worth. I stake him, or that's it."

"Isn't that what you were supposed to do anyway?" Greg asks.

"I wouldn't kill a fucking _bear_ if you starved it almost to death and threw it unconscious at my feet," Rhod says. "A hunter and a butcher are not supposed to be the same thing."

"I just don't understand how you decided on all this so quickly," Greg says. "I mean, I'm glad, but I don't understand."

"They finally pushed me, and this is who I turned out to be," Rhod says, and he sounds disgusted with himself. "It turns out I don't fucking want to kill Alex. I don't want to kill anyone. I hate that I didn't kill someone before I realized it was gonna bother me so much. I just want to live my life among yr anifeiliaid, and I don't want to have to be a murderer just because it was passed down to me."

"That, ah," Greg says, completely thrown. "Well, I guess I'm glad you decided to do the right thing."

Rhod gives him a stare that he swears he can feel boring into him. "This isn't where you pat yourself on the back for making me make what will probably end up being the worst mistake of my rapidly shortening life on this earth," he says, his voice low and vicious. "I've been heliwr for thirty-seven years, and no matter what happens, I am not heliwr after today. So if you could fucking back off about it, that would be just fine."

Greg doesn't dare say anything else.

Rachel comes back bearing construction paper and crayons. "Sorry, best I could do," she says unrepentantly, dropping them on the table. "Show us what we're working with."

"Alright," Rhod says, sitting down and smoothing out the paper in front of him. "This is just a- we'll call it an outpost, shall we? They're all the same layout. We've got a T here, front entrance in the middle of the top of the T, usually sleeping quarters in this end, storage in this end, and back here in the, ah-" He stops drawing. "What do you call the standing-up part of a T? Doesn't matter. Anyway, that's where they'll have Alex. We're looking at a warded front door, only lets in helwyr, and let's all hope to god that I count for now. They'll have brought Alex in through a door here. That's the only one Rachel can come through. There's other doors here and here, on both ends of the T, but expect them to be blocked. Terrible fire safety, but it is what it is. I don't expect more than six of them. No matter what happens, _do not_ go into the storage room." He stabs his crayon at Rachel. "Especially you."

"What does the area around it look like?" Rachel asks. "Are we looking at a lot of people around?"

"They don't like having neighbors," Rhod says. "This place is outside town. It's a bit, well, wooded is the wrong word, but there are trees-"

"Just pull it up on Google Maps," Greg says.

"Human innovation," Rhod says, pulling out his phone. "No idea what the street address is, but there's a petrol station and a curry place about half a mile away."

"You have described the whole of England," Greg says.

"There's not a petrol station every half a mile," Rhod says. "I can just pull up the village and look around."

It takes a bit of fiddling, but Rhod produces an aerial view of where they're going. For some reason, that's what makes it sickeningly real; Alex is in there, and he's defenseless, and if he's not dead yet, it might not take long before he is. This has all happened so incredibly quickly, but when Greg thinks about Alex not being in his life anymore, it feels like a sucking wound in the middle of his stomach.

"We can bring him out this way," Rachel says, indicating how the road bends. "That'll give us cover."

"Question," Greg says. "How is any of this supposed to happen? None of this is a plan. It's six people armed to the teeth versus the three of us."

"The two of us," Rhod says. "You're staying in the car."

"It really is for the best," Rachel tells him.

"I'm going in," Greg says.

"You have nothing to do with this," Rhod says, giving him a look. "All you've got to offer is being big."

"All I have to offer is being baned," Greg returns.

Rachel and Rhod stare at him.

"Oh," Rhod says slowly. "That's a bad idea."

"Alex is in there with no food source," Greg says. "He can't feed on you, or the hunters, or Rachel. I'm making a wild guess, but if he needs to be revived, he's going to have to get something in him. We can't risk moving him without it."

"If you're sure," Rachel says, looking horribly torn.

"I am, so consider it settled," Greg says.

"So it's three of us against six of them, and I have two different plans," Rhod says. "First plan, we wait until sundown. I'll go in the front and make a distraction, while you two go in the back and extract Alex. Then you make a distraction so I can extract myself."

"I suppose that's just what we have to do," Rachel says. "Can you handle yourself if they turn on you?"

"Absolutely not, which is why I've got a second plan," Rhod says. "We leave right now, walk in the back, and just fucking nick him."

"Uh," Greg says. "While that does seem faster-"

"The two of you let him get snatched off the street," Rhod says matter-of-factly, which Greg doesn't love, even if it's true. "They knew there was no way you were going to be able to find him at all, especially by the end of the day. They're not expecting you and they never were. I can't even promise they locked all the doors." He holds up a hand. "This is me admitting that this is the plan where I get thrown out of yr helwyr in disgrace and not summarily executed. I like one of those options much better than the other one."

"Whose car should we take?" Greg says wearily.

"Mine," Rhod says. "Be ready in ten minutes. I need to change out my kit."

Rhod gets up and leaves, because of course he does. Greg stares at the map for a moment, but then Rachel is slipping her arms around him, holding him tight. He puts his chin on the top of her head, clutching her to him.

"You thought you were safe with me," Greg says.

"No," she says, looking up at him, laying her cool hand on the side of his face. "We thought you were safe with us."

He kisses her before letting her go. "Don't suppose you have an arsenal of anti-vampire-hunter weaponry?"

"We own a bow?" Rachel says uncertainly.

"Do you know how to use it?" Greg asks.

"No, it's Tom's," she says. "He's doing archery lessons. I think he's really taken to it."

"I don't suspect that will be much help," he says.

"We fight hunters in the same sense that tigers fight normal hunters," Rachel says. "We're naturally ready for it, so we don't really make preparations."

"Why are you two still standing here?" Rhod says, poking his head in. "I have, ah, two daggers, an air pistol, and a mace, if anybody needs anything."

"I have no idea how to use a mace, but I really want to," Greg admits.

"Then you are the perfect candidate for Gilbert's Way of Hitting 'Em With the Blunt End," Rhod says. "Now let's go."

Greg would like to say there is some quality to the outpost that makes it particularly foreboding, especially threatening. In point of fact, it's wholly unremarkable, to the point where Rhod almost drives by it. It looks like it could be any other building, just a wooden structure sitting a little ways off the road, an old truck in front of it. It doesn't become any more visually imposing when they're approaching it from the back; if anything, it's less. It looks like it was an original structure that a wing got built off the back of, and the new part looks like any given outbuilding.

It's not that Greg's not terrified; he is. It's just that he would feel better about feeling terrified if he were sneaking up to something that was actually, objectively scary. He didn't expect the supernatural to have so little panache.

They go around the building to the spot Rhod had identified on the plans, and there is a door there. Rhod walks up to it and carefully tries it; the handle turns, but the door is bolted shut. Rhod looks at Rachel and gestures towards it with his head. She nods, stepping forward; the deadbolt mechanism is not flush with the door, protruding outwards into a beveled puck shape. The metal casing crushes in under Rachel's fingers as she grips it, and she pulls it off, letting it drop to the ground. She pulls out the cylinder, then reaches in and slides the bolt free.

She offers it to Greg; she's probably being silly, but he puts it in his pocket anyway. He may have swooned a little over the whole thing.

The door swings open, and there's a smell like metal and dirt. Rachel makes a noise of disgust, but Rhod doesn't seem to notice. He feels along the doorjamb, looking for something, then he gives Rachel two thumbs up and walks inside. Rachel grabs on to Greg's hand, and he tries not to wince at the pain; instead he just follows her while she enters the building.

It smells awful inside, a sharp, metallic scent that gets in Greg's nose and doesn't seem to want to come out. The room is illuminated but almost isn't, nothing but the light through the papered-over windows and one overhead fixture, neither of them nearly enough to light up the whole of the room. It really does feel like being in a shed, more than anything else, and it's making Greg's skin crawl for reasons he can't quite understand.

So at least something is creepy.

There's no sign of Alex. There's no sign of anyone else, either, though there's a heavy door separating where they're standing from the top of the T. Rhod goes up to it, feeling around on the wall; he looks around, seeing a chair and bringing it carefully over. He stands up on it, reaching out and pulling on something. What looked like a solid wooden wall in the dim light of the room turns out to be slats, running along the length of the wall above the door. Rhod peers through them, then gets down from the chair.

He holds up two fingers, then makes the universal gesture for laying your head on the pillow, then taps his watch. "So if we don't make too much noise and we're out of here quick, I think we're fine," he says, which kind of ruins the effect.

"Why are they asleep?" Greg says quietly.

"They expected to be out all night," Rhod says. Rachel has already left the two of them, headed towards the back of the building. 

"Here," Rachel says. There's a little inset room, like you get sometimes in industrial buildings. She's very carefully not anywhere near the door, which Greg thinks is perfectly reasonable. He and Rhod both come over to check it out.

"Get back," Rhod tells them. He looks at Rachel. "You, walk back that way, turn around, and put your shirt over your eyes." 

For some reason Rachel doesn't think this is unreasonable, which leaves Greg and Rhod at the door. Rhod reaches out and lays a fingertip on the door, and carefully but quickly he brushes out a pattern, something Greg can't follow. There is a bright flash, but no noise, and Rhod waits a few seconds and opens the door.

"You cannot walk through this door," Rhod tells Greg, more seriously than he's ever said anything in his life. "I need you to go over there with Rachel. I'll be out in a minute." 

Greg doesn't know what else to do, so he just does it. Rachel is still standing there, her shirt raised up to cover her eyes. "Tell me when he closes the door again," Rachel says, sounding shaky. Greg puts an arm around her and waits, holding her and waiting for Rhod.

It takes an excruciating amount of time, but then Rhod is dragging something out of the door; Greg rushes over, and it's Alex, a bag over his head, still wearing his slacks from last night and a shirt he stole from Greg.

"Take this," Rhod says, and Greg takes over, pulling Alex fully out of the room so that Rhod can shut the door. There's another flash of light. "It's sealed again, you can come back."

Rachel rushes over as Greg whips the bag off of Alex's head. She takes a look at him and physically springs back. "Get it off," she says urgently. "Get it off now."

The only thing Greg can see that's wrong is that there's something tied around his throat, what looks like a rolled up piece of paper bound in red thread. Greg yanks on it and it comes away in his hand; he makes a noise of surprise when it catches fire, burning away like flash paper. "You could have warned me," he says to Rhod, shaking his hand out.

"I didn't see it," Rhod says. He puts a hand to his neck, miming a necklace. "Was it a little-"

"Yes," Rachel says flatly.

"That's a problem," Rhod says.

Alex in general is a problem. His eyes aren't open; he looks pale, his skin dry. Greg can't tell if it's the lighting, but he seems to have a faintly bluish cast to his skin, which has never been a good sign of anything.

Rachel goes to her knees beside him. "Wake up for me, darling," she says. Nothing happens, and she swallows hard. "He can't hear me. He'd wake up if he could hear me. He'd have to."

"If I bait him, will he wake up?" Greg says.

"Come again?" Rhod says.

"Would smelling food be enough to rouse him?" Greg asks.

"Greg, he's almost dead," Rhod says. "He has no control. He could suck you dry even if he didn't want to."

Greg looks over to Rachel, and he knows when he sees her face that Rhod is right.

The decision takes him less than a moment. "I don't abandon my friends," Greg says. "Alex said he couldn't kill anyone. That's just going to have to be enough."

"Alright then," Rhod says, then he reaches up and slaps Greg hard across the face.

"What the fuck?" Greg says, holding his cheek.

"Come on, you cunt," Rhod says, and he smacks Greg on the other one; it genuinely really hurts. "Are you gonna be a fucking man, or are you going to act like the failure you are?"

"Where is this coming from?" Greg says, unsure whether to be confused, hurt, or both.

"He doesn't need you to be sad, you overstuffed cow," Rhod says, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him down. "You fucking worthless, small-dicked son of a bitch, be a man for once in your fucking life."

"Get the fuck off me," Greg says, shoving him hard. "Touch me one more time and I'll run you into the ground like a fucking post."

"More," Rachel says urgently. "Come on, more, we're losing time."

It finally occurs to Greg what's going on. He feels deeply relieved, but he tries not to, tries to focus on the anger instead. He slaps himself in the face a few times, cracking his neck. "Oh, so you finally decided to be useful," Rhod says in disgust. "That's a fucking change. Try not to hurt yourself too much."

"You're an absolute piece of shit," Greg spits, trying to dredge up as much anger as possible, genuine or not. "You don't care about anyone and you live to humiliate me, despite how much I've done for you, you ungrateful fuck. What the fuck did I ever do to you?"

"Nothing," Rhod says, "except be a fat fucking target, you weak, pathetic bitch."

"Come on," Rachel says. "Come on, I think he's moving, please, Greg."

It almost undoes him, because she sounds so plaintive, so distraught, and he has the strongest urge to comfort her. When he looks towards her, Rhod pulls him back by his chin, backhanding him hard enough that Greg reels.

"They're not gonna stop, because you're so fucking worthless that you can't stop them," Rhod says. "They're gonna kill her, and then you, and then me, and then they're starting on everyone else you love." Greg's hands ball into fists, clenching tightly. Rhod looks like he's _enjoying_ this, and Greg wants to smack that look right off his smug face. "You better hope you're fucking dead so you don't have to see what they do to your mum."

Greg pulls back to take a swing, anything to shut Rhod up. His fist crosses the plane of his body, and then loses its power; Greg's eyes roll back in his head, and he collapses heavily onto the floor.

"Oh Jesus Christ that was so scary," Rhod says, bending over and putting his hands on his thighs. "I thought he was gonna murder me. He could snap me in half."

Rachel pats his back. "It'll be alright," she tells him. They both look at the two bodies on the floor; Alex sits up unsteadily, looking groggy, his eyes unfocused. Greg is unmoving, barely anything to indicate he's still alive. "If you can help Alex walk, I'll take care of Greg. They both need to be stabilized."

"Come on," Rhod says, attempting to get Alex to his feet; he doesn't accomplish it, finding instead that Alex's ankles are bound together.

"Do you want me to get that?" Rachel asks, indicating the ropes.

Rhod sets Alex down again, running his fingers over the rope; his fingers come away with a metallic sheen, and she flinches back. "Wouldn't touch that if I were you," he says, pulling a knife off his belt instead.

"You could have killed him, and none of us could have stopped you," Rachel says, as the thin ropes snap against the blade of the knife.

"Don't rub it in," Rhod grumbles. He gets Alex upright, and Rachel lifts Greg up. "What's your plan for His Royal Hugeness?"

"I'm just gonna pour liquids down his throat until he can form sentences again," she says.

"Not the worst plan I've ever heard," Rhod says, and they get the hell out of there.

And then they are, improbably, in a food court in a shopping center.

Alex looks weary, but it's getting better; the place is filled up with shoppers, and he's breathing in deeply, his eyes getting clearer by the minute. The table is against a wall, and Greg is leaning against it, looking to any outside observer like he's extremely drunk.

"Just a little more, love," Rachel says, tipping the last of his second bowl of tomato soup into his mouth. She gives him a sip of Tango to wash it down, and Greg sighs as she puts her hand over his.

Rhod is moodily eating chicken nuggets. They gave him the wrong sauce, but Rachel glared at him when he wanted to go back to complain.

"And you checked on the children?" Alex says, his voice almost sleepily calm.

"Of course," Rachel says, taking the lid off another bowl of soup. She doesn't point out that Alex has asked already; it's possible he doesn't remember. "Why don't you give it a few more minutes and then call them? I'm sure they'd like to hear your voice. I think it'll be safe."

"Yeah," Alex says, then he pulls in another deep breath, which isn't a breath at all.

Rachel gets a little more soup into Greg, and then he straightens up, rolling his head this way and that. He takes a look at their surroundings; he seems to consider and reject several things to say, before just asking, "Why are we in a food court?"

"You needed to eat, and Alex needed to eat," Rachel says.

"I hadn't eaten either," Rhod protests.

"And Rhod needed to eat," Rachel says graciously.

"What about you?" Greg says.

"Mums feed people," she says, giving him a sip from his soda.

"What's the plan?" Greg asks.

"First you need to finish your soup," Rachel says.

"That's a very short-term plan," Greg says.

"Our house tonight," Alex says.

Greg has no idea what to say, so he just says, "You lived."

"I did, thank you," Alex says; it's not that he doesn't sound grateful, more that he sounds like nothing, like a computer generated voice. "For tonight, we stay at our house. We'll be safe there. Then we'll make a plan."

"I'll take it," Greg says. He looks at Rhod. "What's your plan?"

"It goes the best for everyone if I just go home," Rhod says. "They know somebody unsealed the door, but they can't prove it was me. If I just act like I didn't know anything about it, then it's like I didn't do anything." He sighs. "I'll be safe. And if I'm not, they'll just kill me."

"I'm sorry that it came to this," Greg says. "I think you're better off not killing people, and you did the right thing, but it must have meant a lot to you."

"I'll live," Rhod says. "Finish your soup so we can get out of here."

Greg finishes his soup. It seems to be the best idea.


	4. Chapter 4

Greg wakes up to the sensation of something cool on the back of his neck. It gets warmer, wetter, as it resolves into the feeling of being kissed. The kiss has a bit of beard to it, scratching not unpleasantly against his skin.

Greg considers pretending to be asleep, because it feels very nice, especially when Alex puts an arm around his waist. Maybe Alex will carry on kissing him, and he can just lay here and enjoy it for a minute.

Then Alex's hand steals down, rubbing along the shape of Greg's cock in his briefs, and remaining asleep no longer holds any interest.

"Are you hungry, or just horny?" Greg asks, not rolling over quite yet.

"I am fundamentally always Horney," Alex says, and Greg groans in amused disgust, as befits a truly bad pun. "But sort of both."

"If you ask very nicely, I could be convinced to do something about that," Greg says.

"I have other ways of being convincing, if you like," Alex says, slipping his hand under Greg's waistband.

"I'm intrigued," Greg says, pressing back against him. "Tell me more."

His cock is hardening in Alex's hand, helped by the way Alex pushes his foreskin back and runs his thumb over the sensitive head. Alex bites gently at the back of his neck, in a way that is not vampiric at all, and Greg sighs.

Someone clears their throat from the other side of the room.

Greg smiles to himself, because he immediately recognizes it. He lifts his head up, looking at Rachel. "Why aren't you in bed?" he asks.

She pulls her shirt off over her head, dropping it to the floor. "I wanted to check on the boys," she says. 

Rachel and Alex both keep doing that, getting out of bed to check up on the kids. Theoretically, they're safe here, where vampire hunters are expressly forbidden, but Greg understands why they keep doing it. It's a little weird for all of them, leaving as they did so precipitously; Greg is on a "writing break", Rachel took a "leave of absence", and Alex is "unemployed." They've been here over a month, and no one is leaving until, at the very earliest, Taskmaster starts filming again.

The nanny, understandably, almost immediately quit and went back to England. Greg can't fault her in the least. She's been replaced by an older woman who just looks like she's definitely hit someone with a baseball bat before and who seems perplexed that the boys love her.

There are two people who could not be convinced to come with them. The first, Greg's mum, is probably not in actual danger right at the minute; bafflingly, Greg has been persuaded to leave her protection to Tim Key, which is more unlikely than the fact he's involved with not one, but two vampires. And then there's Rhod, who is somewhere. Greg thinks it might be France; he assumes that Rhod will come back, though he is unsure whether Rhod is barred from Wales. He's not a vampire hunter anymore and he sort of never was, but there are plenty of humans in Wales who don't hunt anything.

Greg turns over, surreptitiously checking the lock on the door, which he can just see from his vantage point. Surely Rachel locked it, but an ounce of prevention. The boys are being weirdly okay with the fact that Uncle Greg just turned up and started sleeping in Mummy and Daddy's bed. Dara has decided that it is good and right, because Uncle Greg is big and thus useful for protection; the other two are apparently just rolling with it. Greg's going to let it ride for now, because he has no idea what the alternative is.

"I can hear you thinking," Rachel says, and she bops Greg on the nose with one finger. "It's fine."

"If it's fine, then you're overdressed," Greg says, and he swoops in and undoes the drawstring of her sleep pants, tugging them down her hips. Rachel laughs, but she lets him do it, kicking them away and slipping into bed next to him.

Greg is taken by surprise when Alex's hands go up his shirt, pushing it up until Greg has to take over and pull it all the way off. He's discovered that he absolutely cannot sleep naked with the two of them, even though that's a satisfying thing to do after sex; it'll probably be lovely in the summer, but he absolutely freezes his tits off as it stands. He takes the hint and gets his underwear off, pushing them down under the sheets somewhere even though he knows they'll get lost.

Rachel leans over him, kissing Alex instead. "What do you want?" she asks him.

"Me?" Alex says, looking confused.

"You never pick," Greg says. "You just say you like anything we give you."

"But I do," Alex protests.

"You must want something," Rachel cajoles. "Come on, dear. Be selfish."

Alex still looks reluctant, but he leans over and says something into Rachel's ear.

"Alexander James Jeffery Horne," Rachel says, looking scandalized.

"This is why I don't ask for things," Alex says, disappointed.

"How dare you be sexy at a time like this," Rachel chides. "The nerve."

"I'm-" Alex starts, but then he pulls up short. "Wait, what?"

"I think it sounds great," Rachel says, kissing him. "Don't be hard on yourself."

"Is anyone going to tell me?" Greg asks. Rachel bends down and whispers to him, and Greg's eyebrows go up. "That sounds like a very good idea from my end."

Rachel swings a leg over Greg's hips. "Then you better get me ready," she says, and Alex gets up from the bed, rushing off.

"Gladly," Greg says. He slides his hand between her legs, pushing up against her with the heel of his hand for a moment, broad pressure that she rocks into. He pulls back to run his fingertips over her clit, and she makes a pleased noise, taking one of her breasts into her hands and squeezing it, her thumb toying with her nipple.

There's a tap on Greg's calf, and he leans over to look. "Open your legs, please," Alex says, in a businesslike tone. Greg rolls his eyes, moving so Alex can get in between his legs. Alex has a towel and a bottle of lube, and he sets them down before putting an arm around Rachel's waist. She tilts her head back so they can kiss. "Is this alright?"

"More than alright," Rachel says, kissing him again. "Keep going."

There's something about the way the two of them look together that does something to Greg. Jealousy isn't the right word at all; they belong together, a thing that is fundamentally true. It's more like a longing, a deep desire for them to not let him go. The awkward part is that they know it already, can taste it on him, even though he is almost certain he could never say it out loud.

"You're too far away," Rachel says, and she puts her hands on shoulders and hauls him up so that he's sitting.

"You're going to get smushed flat," Greg says, because they're all but pressed together now; his cock grinds against her, and the way she's spread across him, it would take nothing to push up into her.

"I doubt it," she says, putting her arms around his neck and pulling him down to kiss him.

Rachel makes a noise into his mouth, and he knows it must be related to Alex's slick fingers pressing inside of her. He reaches between them, playing with her clit, trying to ease any discomfort she might be feeling. Her head goes back, finding Alex's shoulder, and the way she's panting, she doesn't look uncomfortable at all.

Greg wants more than anything just to surge forward, but he waits, kissing her neck, her jawline, trying to distract himself. It's not really working; his hips are moving in what is probably not a subtle way, his cock grinding against her.

"I can't," Alex says, sounding anxious. "It's too much, I need-"

"Hold out for me," Rachel says. "Wait until we're situated."

Alex makes a noise that sounds a little distraught. "Can we get situated now?"

Rachel laughs. "Come on. Greg first."

It does take nothing; she just kneels up a little, letting him line them up, then she sinks down on his cock, making a sigh of satisfaction. He genuinely might be ruined for humans at this point, because she feels amazing around him, so wet but deliciously cool, in a way he didn't even know felt good. He rolls his hips up into hers, kissing her, losing track of everything else that's going on for a bit, when it feels so good.

"Sorry," Alex says suddenly, and Greg lands on the bed, Rachel landing on top of him. "I needed room," he says apologetically, but Rachel just laughs.

"Good thing we don't keep you around for your charm," Greg says. He doesn't say anything when Alex starts to push inside, because he can _feel_ him, right through Rachel's body. Rachel is panting shakily, and she drops her head, resting her forehead on Greg's chest. "Are you alright?"

"Oh Jesus," she says. She looks up at him, and her eyes are almost black. "Greg, please-"

"Yeah," he says softly. "Do it."

They're getting better about not just tearing into him right away, trying to be more gradual about it. It doesn't work this time, but that doesn't surprise him; instead they pounce on him, the feeling so intense that he thrusts up hard enough that he would have thrown anyone else off. He's getting better at staying lucid, but the only reason he wants to is so he can soak up all of how good it feels.

"You taste so good," Rachel says, clutching at Greg's shoulders as Alex fucks into her. "God, you're the best thing I've ever eaten. I just want to do it over and over."

"Yes," Greg slurs, wanting nothing more to lay himself out to be devoured; his body is moving with no thought required, nothing but an animal drive. "Please."

"Save a little for me," Alex says.

Rachel laughs breathlessly. "Always, love. I'll always share with you."

"I know," he says, kissing her shoulder blade. "Now arch your back a little, I need to-" Rachel groans. "Yeah, like that, if you could stay there."

"Jesus Christ," she says, laying her head on Greg's shoulder. Greg musters the coordination to rest his hand on her hair, stroking it, but that's about the best he manages.

A quickie is absolutely out of the question with these people, but the alternative is so good that Greg is perfectly happy with the tradeoff.

Afterwards, Greg is sitting up on the pillows, feeling calm and a little blank, in a way that doesn't necessarily feel bad. Somebody's sorted a tea tray, which is extremely convenient. Alex is feeding him oatmeal, appropriate for the hour; it is a deeply unsexy food, but Greg is starting to get the pattern. Perhaps the idea of being fed caviar by naked vampires is very exotic, but the food they give him to build his strength back is the kind that his nan would have said sticks to your ribs. He is a big healthy boy, so it's not something he'd complain about.

Rachel is sitting next to him, a hand in his, leaning into his side. She and Alex both look especially sated; Greg also thought it was particularly good, but he's at this weird point where he can't attach emotions to things, only sees them like logic problems, like something from a math book.

"I have to move," Greg says, when Alex is taking a break from the oatmeal.

"Why?" Alex asks, putting a blueberry in his mouth.

Greg chews the blueberry before speaking. "My place isn't safe. The hunters know where it is, and there's nothing about it that's going to stop them or anyone from coming in." He shrugs. "It wouldn't even stop other vampires." Rachel tenses next to him. "Surely there's a service I can call to find me a new place, then it can be blessed. Unblessed. Whatever."

"It, ah," Alex says. "It doesn't quite work like that."

"It has to be a home," Rachel says, and there's some note to her voice that Greg can't identify, not with the way he's feeling. "And it can't be you living there alone."

Greg frowns. "I don't really fancy moving back in with my mum, but I guess it would be safer."

"He's not getting any of this," Alex says.

"We're explaining it very poorly," Rachel says.

"Explaining what?" Greg says, and Rachel pops a strawberry into his mouth, potentially so he'll have to stay quiet.

"Humans don't have any powers," she says. "That's their curse. That means that sometimes vampires see them as cattle, and hunters see them as something to step on in the fight against vampires."

"I looked up anifail, finally, which is not spelled like it should be," Greg says.

"An animal," Alex says resignedly.

"This is also the blessing of humans," Rachel says. "They eat normal food and they live normal lives, and they don't have to join a cult and murder people just because they're Welsh."

"Any nationality of human has the freedom to join a cult and murder people," Greg says sagely.

"But since you're a human, you don't have the capacity to protect yourself from anything," she says. "You can't ward a doorway or put guards around a home, and we can't come in and do it for you."

"We don't have to be welcomed," Alex says. "But we do have to have the authority to kick people out."

"So you want to sign my lease?" Greg says, confused.

"You sweet human man," Rachel says, in the longsuffering voice that she uses when someone fucks up. "We want you to move in."

"Oh," Greg says.

"The logistics are, uh, a lot," Alex says. "Because we do have three little boys who are starting to get suspicious."

"They're not suspicious," Rachel says. "They're just unclear on the details."

"Do- do you think we should tell them something?" Alex asks.

"Maybe this conversation first," Rachel says.

"But we've been thinking about a second place for a while," Alex says. "Somewhere that's in London, to make things easier, on multiple fronts."

"And you could live there, or you could live with us, or you could do both?" Rachel says. "But you would be safe. With us."

"You must let me help pay," Greg says.

"Excuse me?" Alex says.

"I'm not letting you buy a house that's going to be my primary residence without contributing to it," Greg says, because when he takes the fear and the doubt and the uncertainty out of it, it's the most logical thing in the world. "We're just going to have to see how much time anyone spends where when we get to it, but I'm not going to be a guest or a tenant."

"You've got a deal," Rachel says.

"Eat some more berries," Alex says, because feeding on emotions does not make him good at dealing with them.

"I'll eat the berries if it'll make you happy," Greg says patiently, taking the bowl; the joke's on him, because the berries are very good and he was going to eat them anyway. Alex still looks kind of expectant and awkward, so Greg leans over and kisses him, a hand on the back of his neck. He pulls away and turns to his other side, kissing Rachel too, because it just appeals to his sense of neatness to make it symmetrical.

Greg sits back, rummaging around in the bowl of fruit for the best looking ones. Alex is still looking at him, and Greg arches an eyebrow at him. "I'm going to make you eat this blueberry if you don't calm down," he says, holding up a slightly emaciated specimen.

Alex sighs. "Just eat."

Greg smirks at him, then picks out a strawberry and takes a bite. He chews thoughtfully for a moment. "If the vampire hunters are in Wales," he says, "and the vampires are in Ireland, and England's a mixed bag, what's the deal with Scotland?"

"Chock full of werewolves," Rachel says, and for the life of him, Greg doesn't know if she's kidding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A family can be two vampires, their adopted children, a big juicy man, a sullen ex-vampire hunter, and, surprisingly, Tim Key


End file.
